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A story about Tony Stark's daughter, the youngest Avenger...
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"What?" I inquired, feeling slightly self conscious at his staring.
"You're so beautiful," Bucky said, his voice barely above a whisper.
***
"You don't have to ask to hold my hand...
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
{ K y l i e }
( LONDON - 2016 )
I WAS SAT inside a packed Cathedral in London, England as Sam and Natasha were at my side attending Peggy's funeral. My eyes drifted to the bell tower and steeple that arose from the body of the church; the tower, measuring a hundred feet from the floor of the church, was crowned by a steeple covered with duranodic finished aluminum.
The striking impact of the church exterior was complemented by the subtle beauty of the interior. A total of thirty-nine stained glass windows adorned the church with the largest being the Rose Window above the choir loft in the rear of the church. The church choir was different compared to other choirs that didn't sing hymns; their voice was almost like angels', high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, and they sang for God only.
It was packed with mourners, the waves of grief washed the stage, for tears needed their time to pass. Emotional pain flowed out of Peggy's family's every pore at the front of the church, by the choir; from their mouths came a cry so raw that even the eyes of the strangers around us were suddenly wet with tears. I grabbed onto Natasha's hand so that her violent shaking would not cause her to fall, the three of us feeling slightly uncomfortable at the amount of crying and grieving surrounding us. Sam grabbed onto my other hand as we waited for Peggy's coffin to enter the church.
"God, I fuckin' hate funerals," I mumbled to my two companions, watching some old woman blow her nose into a tissue.
"Well, I'd be a bit concerned if you enjoyed them, Kyles," Sam shot back, causing me and Natasha to let out a snort.
After a few minutes, everyone arose from their chairs as a sign that Peggy's coffin was about to enter the holy building. I cleared my throat and flicked a piece of hair out of my face once I saw that Steve was one of six pallbearers carrying a coffin draped with the Union Jack flag. Steve's eyes were red and puffy as he tried to stay strong, but everyone knew he had been crying. My heart poured out for the Captain. It was understandable, he loved her...
The six pallbearers carefully placed Peggy's coffin down on a stand before walking back to their assigned seats. Natasha moved to the end of the row when Steve came to sit in the middle of the red-headed beauty and me. A sniffle escaped the soldier's nose which caused me to latch onto his muscled hand that rested on his thigh. I gave him a reassuring squeeze which he returned with a small smile; I went to retract my hand from his grip, but that made him squeeze my hand a little harder, not wanting me to let go.
